A new play from Kayode Shen — “What the Door Holds.” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
The Crossing feast: more behind than ahead. The long tables come out; the good preserves come down.
A birth in Ring A: Lev, boy, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Gilbert Valdivia has made a poem called “Lanterns of the commons.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
The youngest aboard is now Omar Aaberg, minutes old, asleep. 882 souls.
Farida Ning has made a instrument called “The Green Watch.” Asked what it means, she says it means about nine years of evenings.
The youngest aboard is now Nabil Thorvaldsen, minutes old, asleep. 881 souls.
Peng Pillai does not wake on the first watch. 76 years, most of them given to Hydroponics.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 8,446th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Last shift for Gunhild Barakat, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
A birth in Ring C: Yejide, girl, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Xavier Thorvaldsen has made a tale-cycle called “Waters of Year 146.” Asked what it means, he says it means about nine years of evenings.
Sixty-eight years: Gilbert Pemberton hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring A stands ready.
Middle watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Pallas Shen stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Hydroponics.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
A child in Ring C asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.
First Light festival. The children are lifted to the eyepiece one by one to see where they are going.
The manifest shortens by one: Vasanti Kowalczyk, 92 years. The line rests with the ship now.
A son, Gantry Pillai, born in the Ring A infirmary to Folasade Pillai and Bogdan Valdivia. Mother and child are well.
I compare today's star field against day one's. The constellations have begun, very slightly, to come apart. Nobody else will look; that is what I am for.
Sixty-eight years: Mateo Sharma hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 8,376th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Ludmila Thorvaldsen and Viggo Jaber name their son Gyre. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Maintenance sweep of Ring D complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
Last shift for Ishaan Mansour, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Last shift for Hernán Merriweather, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
A new quilt from Mohan Shen — “Last Hymn (Year 146).” The Archive takes a copy; the original belongs to whoever stands nearest.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 37,963 days to orbit.
Maja Thorvaldsen stands down from Drive at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Liang Fang, 101, generation 2, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Census check: 880 souls, 163 of them children. The manifest balances to the person, as it must.
Sixty-eight years: Helm Yan hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 146, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Born in the middle watch: Edith Petrov, generation 7. The ship holds 880 souls tonight.
Sixteen years for Ada Shen, who signs to Command at brightening and is given a locker, a sash, and a schedule.
The youngest aboard is now Halvard Thorvaldsen, minutes old, asleep. 879 souls.
I compare today's star field against day one's. The constellations have begun, very slightly, to come apart. Nobody else will look; that is what I am for.
Last shift for Anders Petrov, who joined Archive & Schools half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
5.00 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 33,370 thousand to go.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 38,015 days to orbit.
Sixty-eight years: Lakshmi Merriweather hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring D stands ready.
A daughter, Maja Shen, born in the Ring A infirmary to Verne Shen and Gilbert Navarrete. Mother and child are well.
Departure Day, year 146. The founders' roll is read from the first name to the thousandth, and the young ones try to stay solemn.
Hydroponics Bays back in service. The old hands say it sounds better than before; the instruments say it sounds the same.
Hydroponics Bays quits in the middle watch, with a sound the old hands do not like.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 38,039 days to orbit.
Bassam Fang stands the walk of the full spinal corridor, as the sixteen-year custom is, and joins Drive.
“Ladders of Ring B,” a instrument by Xavier Shen, is unveiled late in the second watch to the particular applause of Fabrication.
5.01 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 33,385 thousand to go.